


Baklava

by Athenova



Series: Searching for the Land of Light [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cute Ending, Gen, Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, I want Sadik and Heracles to be friends so badly, Light Angst, Self-Indulgent, Self-Reflection, like please
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:35:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28017066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athenova/pseuds/Athenova
Summary: Heracles goes on a long long walk, and ends up meeting someone he didn't intend to. Simple teasing results in something unexpected, for him and Sadik alike.
Relationships: Greece & Turkey (Hetalia)
Series: Searching for the Land of Light [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2052129
Kudos: 4





	Baklava

**Author's Note:**

> I was feeling really down the other day, so wrote this little thing to cheer myself up. Enjoy Sadik and Heracles being conflicted neighbours as I headcannon them to be.

Heracles sucked in a deep breath. The fresh, cold air of the Aegean Sea stroked his face, and Heracles could taste its familiar saltiness in his lips as it relentlessly blew past him.

  
He whipped his head from the sight of the untamed sea and took slow, but steady steps alongside the road.  
He was feeling unusually energetic and took a walk. But he couldn’t recall. How long had he been walking?  
It seemed like mere minutes when he left his house in Athens.

And now he was here.

The last place he’d like to be, under normal circumstances, would be here. Past the Evros River’s wilderness and beyond the gates of his borders. The swamps that linger bring him nothing but memories wrapped in pain. And echoes of a past long gone, a past which would torment his dreams later.

Heracles scoffed. He was tortured enough by such memories, and many more. These thoughts kept him alive, they reminded him why he strives for peace.  
He’s an old man. While not in body, definitely in spirit.  
He’s an old man who had seen and gone through Hell and all of its levels. From his childhood to his current state, Heracles remembers struggling.

  
Heracles ran a nervous hand through his hair and continued on his “walk”, more like a hasty trot to nowhere. Even his cats seemed to have abandoned him, leaving him astray on the edge of beyond.

Again, under normal circumstances, Heracles would not be here. He was dangerously near the Turkish border, and God help him if that didn’t leave a bitter taste in his mouth.  
His heart was crumbling without her, however. He had to come visit her, even if it meant he’d walk all the way from Athens to Bosporus.  
  
The Queen of Cities, Basileuousa, would soon be by the horizon, if he kept walking in the same maddened rhythm as before.  
He had promised to himself, when leaving Constantinople, he’d come visit as many times as possible.  
He and his father built this city. He had watched her grow in the shadows, a bright light surrounding her. A light so powerful, the darkness that engulfed the Westerners could not even creep close to Constantinople.

But these glorious days are over, Heracles reminded himself, with the same serene face he masked his soul with.

A crunch under his boots snapped him violently back to reality.  
Heracles rubbed his eyes, green eyes scanning the surrounding scenery. 

He was at the border of Sadik’s and his. The fence was still worn out from May’s events.

Heracles shuddered at the mere passing memory of May.

And just opposite of him, sat the most familiar figure of the world, at least for him. The masked man, in his full glory, dressed in a normal hoodie and jeans.  
Sadik. Of course. The guy who’s been after him for a while now. Or had he?  
  
Sadik was taking a sip of what seemed to be juice, his green eyes lost in the sea. If Heracles was to sneak closer, he’d notice the reflection of the waves in his eyes, an incredible sorrow washing over them.

  
Heracles felt his stomach turn on the sight of Sadik, rolling his eyes. As it seemed, he wouldn’t visit Constantinople for another year. After this year’s events, Heracles was trying his best to avoid Sadik, even though his government had different plans.  
  
Yet again, he couldn’t resist the call of the Void which told — no, _commanded_ him to annoy Sadik a bit.  
After all, he does it all the time to him. Only fair.

Heracles crept closer to him, standing idly by the fence, even though he could cross above it. He believed that as much as he wanted to tease Sadik, crossing his border like that was rude.

  
“Seems like you’ve been really enjoying your juice.” Heracles burst out, with more venom in his voice than he intended. 

  
Sadik was drawn from his thoughts, flinching at the sudden sound of Heracles’ voice.  
Sadik shot a glare at his direction and simply rolled his eyes.

  
Heracles took a hesitant step back. He pissed off Sadik, as he planned, but _Lord help him_. This is going to be another diplomatic episode for this year. 

  
To his surprise, Sadik turned his gaze to meet Heracles’, but this time, the momentary death glare had faded back to a dull sorrow, as before. He sighed as he took another sip of his juice.

“What do you want, Heracles.” He said, shoulders tense, his voice low and heavy, like the guilt that was piling up on Heracles’ back. “If you want to piss me off, too bad. I don’t have time for this.”

  
“Well.” Heracles stammered and found himself lacking words. How unusual of him. He always had a smart reply reserved for people like Ludwig, Sadik or Dimitar’s sister, but today he found his arsenal empty.

  
“I was… On a walk. Yes, on a walk.”

  
“And you thought about pissing me off?”

  
“You do it often.” Heracles concealed — albeit terribly — a sarcastic chuckle. “Thought I’d repay the favour.”

  
Sadik couldn’t help but smile slightly at his sworn rival’s remark.  
“I’d invite you over for baklava….” Sadik started letting his shoulders drop, lighting a cigarette and putting it in his mouth.  
Drawing a deep, satisfying sip from the cigarette, Sadik’s smile was lost as he continued.

“But you know. My boss is mad at yours.”  
  
  


“I know.” Heracles took a seat on the grass next to him, relishing in the smell of nature around him. And of course, Sadik’s smoke.   
“Mine’s pretty mad, too.”

“How can you stand to sit next to your enemy?” Sadik’s question struck Heracles at his weakest spot. His immense hatred for his neighbour was quite apparent. He made sure everyone knew that Heracles hated Sadik’s guts, and sadly, he was not the only one who thought like that.

  
But did he hate him for real? He could question it. Sure, the governments hated each other, considering each other as lower than vermin.  
A broken past can’t hold him back any further. It’s time he moved forward. Forgive, but never forget, wasn’t that what everyone said after all?

“Maybe I don’t hate you.” Heracles smiled. “You’re just this really annoying neighbour who likes to pick on me.”

  
Sadik let out a loud, humorless laugh, finding himself unable to resist. He couldn’t fathom the idea, after all, that Heracles had said. Because his words are sharp, like daggers, and they stabbed where Heracles knew it hurt most.

  
“Your sharp tongue says otherwise.”

  
“I say things like these for everyone, Sadik. Complaining is a profession for me at this point.”

  
“You complain about everyone but Miroslav, however.” Sadik smirked, rolling his cigarette between his index and point finger playfully. “This should say enough about you.”

  
“Hey! He’s a good friend, besides it’s not like he doesn’t have his fair share of flaws.” Heracles felt blood rush to his face and ears, and his futile attempts to hide the fact that he’d become redder than a tomato just elicited more smirks from Sadik.

  
Heracles sighed and ran a finger through his hair.  
“Listen. I mean what I say this time--”

  
“Like always.” Sadik’s interruption hid a deep bitterness, but a note of anger boiling within. Heracles’ confidence wavered with the interruption, but like a cat’s reflexes, he regained it, not allowing Sadik to weaken his calmness.

  
“And I say, and I hope you return the feeling, you’re not too bad. At least, now.”

  
Sadik quirked an eyebrow which prompted Heracles to continue.

  
Heracles found himself immersed in an awkward silence. He was quite confident in his remarks before, but as Sadik’s icy demeanour insisted, Heracles lost his train of thought. Uncommon for him. As calm as he usually was, he was quite outspoken and always spoke his mind, not afraid to go against Ivan if it’s needed. No “superpower” scared him, only his government was.

  
And Heracles had decided he had better things to deal with. His government feared many things, but he knew that fear was an obstacle. Or was it? Perhaps he still had a concept of fear, deeply rooted within his human soul.

  
The feeling of a glare piercing right interrupted Heracles’ new philosophical thoughts through his soul.  
Sadik had fixed his curious eyes within Heracles’ soul, eyebrow quirked still, possibly waiting for that reply.

  
“Are you going to say something, Heracles?” Sadik said, no particular color or tone in his voice. Just a plain, straightforward question. “You’ve been quiet for a while.”

  
Heracles smiled sheepishly. “Sorry… I got dragged back into my philosophical thoughts, you know.”

  
Sadik laughed again, a laugh of genuine entertainment rather than sarcasm or pity that Heracles expected. He took a sip from his cigarette and leaned back at the wall.  
“So, you were saying?” He replied, with a chagrin typical of him. “You know, before you stray off to Socrates’ land.”

  
  
Heracles closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall, similar to Sadik.  
“I was saying, you aren’t as bad as I thought. Sure, you’re the guy who killed me and enslaved me and my people.”

  
Sadik let out an annoyed “tch” and Heracles could see him, by a glance over the shoulder, roll his eyes at the remark, as if he wanted to shoot back with an equally bitter remark. 

  
“But,” Heracles continued, ignoring Sadik, usual calmness coloring his voice. “I’ve let the past fade. You know what the wise men say, to forgive but never forget.”

  
Sadik’s eyebrows quirked again, this time in surprise. And not sarcasm that cuts through as if it were a sword of the Ancients.

  
“Wait…” Sadik squinted his eyes, creeping in closer to take a better look at Heracles’ face. His mouth quirked in a steady frown, eyes narrowing in a threatening air, one that Heracles hadn’t seen for a while, and hoped he’d never have to again. “You’re fucking with me. This sounds nothing like you Heracles, you’re preparing something.”

  
“I just decided to overlook the past. But make no mistake.” Heracles’ gaze hardened, a wave of agonizing flashbacks swaying back and forth in his mind. Memories of Sadik stabbing, shooting, killing him and his people. And Heracles doing the same to Sadik’s. A perpetual circle of suffering and death reflected in each other’s eyes. “I won’t forget what you’ve done to my men.”

  
Sadik nodded, green eyes empty of emotion, gazing lifelessly back at Heracles. The frown on the Turk’s face seemed to grow into a scowl, a scowl of misery, the scowl of a grieving man. He was, too, scarred by the nightmares that Heracles delicately called 'wounds'. A look into Sadik’s figure, a slight tremble in his fingers, teeth gritted together, revealed all.

  
“You are no saint, Heracles.” Sadik growled through gritted teeth, a voice much softer than his usual cocky boasts. He jabbed a finger against the other man’s shirt, eliciting no response, however. “You, you… You’re no different from me. You too killed my men. My brothers, my blood, the people I fought tooth and nail to protect.”

  
“ _I know that!_ ” Heracles slammed his fist on the grassy field he was sitting in, drawing the attention of nearby wildlife. His voice raised with a passion, a fire that burnt cold within his chest, eyes lowered to the ground. “I _know_ that, Sadik! I’m a goddamn awful person, if I weren’t, I wouldn’t be haunted every night by the visions of the mistakes I did-!”

  
Heracles’ eyes widened in awe. The icy fire on his soul, burning stronger with more bitterness piling up on his heart, ignited further. He realized he had lost the calm facade he always kept.

_The last time he did it was back in 1999._

  
  


“However,” Heracles raised his head from the ground, a sorrowful smile gracing the tired face of the Greek. “I can’t do that any longer. I have to make peace with myself somehow.”

The atmosphere thickened with a choking tension. The sun was setting. Purple light that fell gently to the Greek and the Turk’s face made them look… so much mature. So much older. So tired.

  
  
Sadik kept quiet, but a curious spark had ignited in his eyes, which prompted Heracles to continue. An honest smile spread further in his cheek, brushing a few stray hairs from his forehead that were bothering his eyes, and inhaled deeply.

  
“I don’t hate you Sadik.” His voice revealed a warm truthfulness, a gentle voice behind the hostile mask. “You’re a dick to me, and I’m a dick to you, but.. You’re still my neighbour.”

  
The last remark cut inside Sadik’s heart like a hot knife through butter. The enmity between them, was it genuine? Sadik didn’t know if it was. Despite everything, he raised him. He grew up with him, in a way, too. They were neighbours. And perhaps, one day, they could get along.

  
Sadik was in a grievous loss of words. Heracles’ absurd honesty out of nowhere, the gentle smile, _a genuine smile of his_ , one he hadn’t seen for years. They all dazed him.  
The last thing he could do is at least offer him some hospitality, as a token of appreciation. For giving him a fleeting hope of them getting along.

  
Even if the next day Heracles was back in his aloof, sarcastic and hostile mood, with eyes sharp like the daggers he pictured himself throwing at the Turk. The hope would persist.

  
“Uh..” Sadik finally smiled back in response, scratching the back of his neck. “I d-don’t know what to reply, to be honest with you.”

He saw the smile on Heracles’ face falter for a split second, and he felt as if he had just kicked a puppy. He saw Heracles’ shoulders tense with the looming possibility of humiliation. Sadik wasn’t planning to do that.

  
“Wait, don’t get disheartened just yet.” Sadik’s smile grew to his signature, confident smirk, taking his mask off his hoodie’s pocket and preparing himself to wear it. “I was just about to invite you over for the baklava I talked about. I made it myself.”

  
“Baklava?” Heracles’ eyes strayed with questioning curiosity, a hand finding its way to his chin. A slight chuckle left Heracles’ lips, as the hand left to return to his hip. “Only if you pack me a piece for me to take home.”

While Heracles’ walk didn’t go as he planned, it certainly lifted his spirits. For a good while, he was whistling and singing while preparing his paperwork, a trait that serious and collected Heracles hadn’t exhibited before.  
Sadik’s baklava was as good as he bragged it was.

  
 _But not better than his_ , Heracles thought to himself with a cheeky smile.


End file.
